


Poolside Manner

by twoseas



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aka the latest installment of twoseas thirst for Bill Hader, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Richie Tozier’s terrible wardrobe, an ode to the hotness of the chapter 2 cast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Richie enjoys looking at his friends. He doesn’t even stop to consider that they might return the sentiment.Featuring terrible clothes, poolside shenanigans, and a short but meaningful journey from love to lust to relationship.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 46
Kudos: 307





	Poolside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> This is over 4,000 words of me being thirsty for the whole cast and Bill Hader in particular. But sometimes you gotta. 
> 
> If you’re in the mood for thinly veiled celebrity crushes and the joy of friendship, please, enjoy!

Richie made it no secret that he thought highly of his friends and their looks. Eddie realized this fairly early on in their reunion, especially after Richie’s coming out: 

“Eddie, bring that compact, hot little body next to me. Bev has dog pictures!”

“Ben, buddy, you gotta warn a guy before you roll your shirt sleeves up. I can’t be popping a boner at the dinner table. I like coming to this restaurant.”

“Mike, get those big, strong, hold-me-til-the-pain-goes-away arms over here and hug me!”

“Jesus, Eds, imagine being hot like Ben. You could get away with so much shit…Wait, never mind, look who I’m talking to.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You guys’ll never know how the other half lives.”

“Patty, it’s so nice to finally meet you. You have yourself a well looking man. I’m so jealous. And you know what they say about the quiet ones. Total tigers in the sack.”

“Richie!”

“No, it’s true. I’m a very lucky woman.”

“Patty!”

“The outfit is great and your boobs look particularly good.”

“What the fuck!?”

“No, I appreciate it. It’s my first interview and photoshoot promoting the new brand and I was a little nervous.”

“You’re too fine for that to ever be a problem.”

“Thanks, Richie.”

“If there was ever a woman capable of turning me away from dick, it would be you.”

“She’s got it, Richie.”

“Quick, make out with Ben. It’ll be like watching a live perfume ad.”

“Do you ever hear yourself?”

“The new fragrance from the makers of Gucci Guilty.”

“Holy shit, is this what shorts weather has blessed us with? Bill, dude, you’ve got this secret thickness that really sneaks up on you. Good shit.”

“I’m getting another drink.”

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” 

“Fuck you, Richie.”

“Don’t let your mouth make promises that your body can’t keep!…Jesus Christ, that sounded so much dirtier out loud than it did in my head.”

“The most surprising thing about that statement is you do apparently think before you speak.” 

“It just doesn’t help.”

…So Richie was shamelessly and unapologetically in favor of his friends. Everyone knew that. The weird thing, the thing that made the least sense, was that Richie seemed to exclude himself from the group, at least when it came to appearances. 

Which ended up being further proof to Eddie that Richie was still so fucking stupid.

— — — 

They walked around the high end resort Ben had designed, taking in the beautiful lines and the clear appreciation he had for the resort’s natural surroundings. Ben’s architecture business apparently had all sorts of perks, including a long weekend stay in the finest suites for him and all the Losers.

“Did you seriously design this place?” Eddie asked, a little bit in awe of his friend. Not that he wasn’t proud and impressed before. He’d done the googling, he knew that Ben’s business was booming, but the photos didn’t do the work justice. 

“I mean, along with my team,” Ben shrugged like he was competing for the most sheepish man award. He handed them the little welcome packets that held their room keys. 

“Don’t be so modest,” Bev chided, softening the scolding with a sweet kiss to his cheek. “How about we all get changed and meet down by the pool, get a few drinks?”

“You had me at drinks and Ben getting changed,” Richie declared. 

“Hands off, Tozier,” Bev warned playfully, placing a possessive hand on Ben’s pec. 

Richie winked. “And yet you won’t stop me looking.”

“Get moving, dumbass,” Eddie urged, pushing Richie towards the suite they’d be sharing. 

Eddie left Richie to his own devices, never the wisest course of action, but Eddie had to get his stuff set out and ready. He was particular about the placement of his clothes, cosmetics, pills, and the various necessities of life and he wasn’t going to compromise. He was getting better about his neuroses, but that didn’t mean he was turning into an animal. By the time Eddie unpacked and changed into his swim clothes, Richie was already shouting from the shared living quarters of their suite. 

“Hurry your cute ass up, Eds Spagheds!” 

Eddie came out to find Richie sprawled across the length of one of the suite’s sofas, dressed in the most horrendous crime against fashion Eddie had ever seen. 

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Eddie questioned, filled with disgusted awe. 

“Uh, yeah.”

Snatching the trucker hat off of Richie’s head, Eddie glared at the offending piece of clothing. “It’s all bad, but this is the worst thing you have ever worn. Where were you hiding this? Why were you hiding this? I thought Bev and I managed to get rid of all the horrible stuff from your wardrobe. We sorted through your closet with trash bags. _Trash bags_ , Richie.”

“Buddy, I kept the fact I was gay secret for close to four decades,” Richie told him pityingly. “I know how to hide stuff in closets.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes and slapped the hat back on Richie’s head, an action that went so far against Eddie’s instincts he had to keep moving. Adjusting the hat, Richie followed Eddie out, matching his hurried pace towards the pool. 

The others had already staked their claim to a section of lounge chairs poolside, perking up at Eddie and Richie’s arrival. They smiled their greetings before their expressions turned to disbelief.

“Oh my god,” Beverly declared, absolute horror in her voice. She sounded almost as distraught as she did when Pennywise pulled his shit. Almost. “What are you wearing? Take it off now!”

“Buy a girl a drink first,” Richie gasped, scandalized. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It would be easier to find what’s right with it. Which is nothing. I can’t even look at you.” Bev pulled her sunhat down over her eyes before she peered back up at him. “You are best friends with a fashion designer. You could’ve asked me for a fitting or something! I know a guy who does swimwear that would look perfect on you.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Richie shot back. 

“You look like the world’s tallest middle schooler going to his first pool party,” Bill chipped in, looking Richie up and down. 

From the trucker hat atop his mop of hair, to the sriracha logo shirt that was most definitely three sizes too big, to the baggy blue and orange swim shorts with black palm tree silhouettes patterned across them, all the way down to the beaten old pair of flip flops. 

It was a disaster. 

“You could fit another person in that shirt,” Mike observed, a frown of confusion marring his face. 

“It’s a short sleeved t-shirt,” Ben mused, “but the sleeves are so big they almost come down to your elbows.”

“Which matches the shorts that go past his knees,” Stan noted. 

“Oh, whatever!” Throwing up his hands, Richie flopped down onto one of the lounge chairs. “It’s pool clothes. They don’t need to be nice. Or fit.”

Bev’s expression was so somber and serious, it didn’t fit in with her bright yellow bikini or the jaunty floppiness of her sunhat. “This is so far from nice. Lightyears from nice.”

Eddie took off his shirt, upended his bottle of sunscreen, and started to work on his second application, a smug smile on his face. “Told you.”

“Bold words from a man who once considered fanny packs the height of fashion. Let me know if you need help getting your back,” Richie said, eyebrows waggling. 

Eddie pretended the heat that flushed his neck and face were from the unrelenting sun above them. 

“Are we not going to address this mid-2000s travesty masquerading around as a hat?” Bill asked, sliding into the pool with ease. 

“Too late, Eddie already roasted me over the hat,” Richie mumbled, getting comfortable on his lounge chair. “Which I stole from a once very popular TV actor at a party, by the way. He was so coked out he didn’t even notice. It’s my lucky hat. I sold out my first show after I stole this hat.”

He then made everything somehow even worse, reaching into the voluminous pocket of his swim shorts and pulling out a pair of sunglasses. Which he then put on his face. Over his prescription glasses. 

“Noooooo,” Bev wailed, crumpling into her own lounge chair. Ben pat her shoulder consolingly. 

“You are the whitest man I know,” Mike told him seriously, sitting on the edge of the pool and dipping his legs in. 

“That’s so mean,” Richie pouted. “You saw how Bill made potato salad like two months ago.”

“That’s true,” Mike mumbled dejectedly. 

“Hey!” Bill splashed at Mike. 

“It was so gross, Bill,” Richie said sadly, shaking his head at the impromptu splash fight between Bill and Mike.

“I can’t believe you managed this level of badly dressed.” Stan got his phone out and snapped a quick photo. “I’m sending this to Patty. She needs to see it.”

“Maybe it’ll lure her away from her conference,” Ben suggested. “She’ll come down and get this outfit out of our sight.”

“Trying to get her to strip me down, Benny boy?” Richie tsked. “I’d never do that to Stan. Not without inviting him first.”

“I would almost accept that offer if it meant you changed out of this,” Stan told him with a wave at Richie’s poor excuse for clothing.

Richie sat bolt upright, a devilish tilt to his growing grin. 

“I said almost!” Stan shouted back immediately, seeing exactly where Richie was going to take it. 

Richie deflated back onto the lounge chair. Only to sit back up when one of the neatly dressed employees came by to ask if they wanted any drinks. They put in their orders and the employee took them down with professional politeness, barely batting an eye at Richie’s atrocious get up. 

Soon enough they all had mixed drinks dripping condensation onto their hands and making rings on the side tables, the alcohol strong and the colors bright. 

“I need to drink more if I’m going to have to look at Richie,” Bev told them over the rim of her hurricane glass. She took a pointed sip. 

“Now you know the plight of my poor romantic partners,” Richie volleyed lazily, laid back and chomping on a pineapple slice that garnished his glass. 

Eddie slammed his bottle of sunscreen down at his side and glowered.

Bev threw the pineapple rind from her own drink at him, getting him right in the cheek. “You _know_ that’s not what I mean!”

“Eh,” Richie waved. 

“We have to do something,” Bill begged. “I’m getting secondhand embarrassment.”

“It’s so bad,” Mike laughed, covering his face with his hands. 

“I think you might’ve topped the tuxedo shirt at prom,” Stan sighed. 

“I mean, as long as he’s comfortable,” Ben tried. 

“Do not defend him,” Eddie snapped at once. “He’s a grown ass man. He should dress accordingly.”

“If you can’t handle me at my poolside manner, you don’t deserve me at my Emmy red carpet,” Richie told them loftily. 

“You wore an ill fitting blazer over a graphic tee at the last Emmys,” Bev ground out scathingly. “With jeans. And sneakers. They weren’t even designer jeans, they were the ones you wear grocery shopping!”

Richie sucked in an exaggerated gasp and put on a valley girl voice, “Beverly Marsh, stop being so obsessed with me.”

“Wow.” Stan stared, unimpressed and over it.

At the pool edge, Bill beckoned Mike down and whispered something in his ear. Eddie watched with his brow pulled together, wary but unwilling to draw attention to it if it would end up in his favor somehow. A devious smile turned Mike’s face young and playful.

Pulling his legs out of the water and standing up, Mike declared in his deep voice, “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix this.”

And then he lifted Richie bodily from the lounge chair and hurled him into the pool. 

The Losers gawked in stunned silence at the giant splash Richie’s body made as he hit the water. And then their laughter filled the air and drew the attention of the more demure, put together guests. 

Richie broke the water’s surface, sputtering out curses. “What the fuck, Mike! What if I had my phone on me!?”

“But you don’t have your phone on you,” Mike countered placidly. “So the plan worked.”

Richie’s stolen trucker hat floated down to the other end of the pool and none of the Losers bothered to stop it. 

“Your plans are garbage,” Richie complained, shaking his hair and sending out a spiral of water droplets that caught the sunlight. “Always. And I didn’t even get free drugs for my troubles.”

“That was one time and it was a pretty stressful emergency sort of situation,” Mike defended himself at once. “And this was technically Bill’s idea.” 

“Guilty,” Bill chuckled, treading water. 

Being the only other one in the pool, Bill made himself the easiest target for Richie’s splash. 

“Eat shit, Denbrough,” Richie told him with another splash to punctuate the sentiment. He swam to the poolside and hoisted himself out. Pool water streamed from his body in massive waves, his oversized, sodden clothing weighing him down. 

“Dude,” Eddie gasped in malicious delight. “You look so stupid.”

“What’s new there? At least my dick’s still huge,” Richie shot back. Then he threw his arms out wide and lunged at Eddie. “Give me a hug, Eds!”

Backing up and using Bev’s lounge chair as a shield, Eddie pointed his finger in warning at an advancing Richie. “No, no, no! Fuck you, bro. Fuck. You. You know I have to reapply my sunscreen every time I get wet.”

“Yeah, your mom had the same problem if you know what I mean!”

“Fuck you!”

While Eddie circled the chair, making sure he didn’t show his back to the other man, Richie made large swipes, his dripping wet clothes splashing Bev and Ben where they sat laughing. 

“Ben,” Bev finally entreated. “Please stop him. He’s getting pool water in my piña colada.”

“As you wish,” Ben nodded, gallant as ever. 

And then Ben was on his feet and grabbing Richie around the waist, spinning him away from Bev and Eddie before throwing them both into the pool. 

They came up spitting pool water, Richie trying to be mad about it while Ben threw his head back and laughed. 

“She’s a bad influence on you,” Richie declared haughtily, eyes dancing. He shook his head some more and his second pair of glasses fell sadly into the pool, sinking to the bottom without anyone to retrieve them. “Not exactly how I imagined those arms around me, but you know what, I’ll take what I can get.”

“It’s what you deserve,” Bev chided with a smirk. She took a sip of her drink and made a face, setting it aside. “That outfit is worse than pool water in my piña colada.”

“I second that,” Stan told them, looking morosely down at his blue hawaii. Apparently Stan’s drink fell victim as well. 

“Oh, excuse the fuck out of me for not being one of the hot Losers,” Richie told her with a scoff. He swam over to the pool edge where Mike was sitting again and climbed out for the second time, Ben swimming happily behind him. “Didn’t realize you didn’t have enough eye candy, what with the five scorchingly hot middle aged men sitting shirtless around you.”

Eddie, Bill, Mike, Ben, and Stan looked at each other and down at their bare torsos self consciously. Eddie shuffled in place and shrugged a little, sitting uneasily down on the lounge chair that had once been Richie’s. 

“I wanted to complete the set,” Bev told him with a wolfish grin. “Now get out of those wet things.”

“You old pervert,” Richie sighed fondly. “You’re lucky this shit is heavy as fuck or you’d never get your little strip show.”

He moved to take off the swim shorts first and all the other guys started yelling their dissent, Bev wolf whistling, but they didn’t need to worry because-

“You wear underwear under your swimsuit?!” Eddie demanded, eyebrows furrowed as he darted his gaze over the stupid plaid boxers that weren’t as soaked through as the shorts, but still damp enough to wrap around Richie’s hips and thighs. He forcibly snapped his eyes back to Richie’s oblivious grin.

Slapping the oversized shorts down to dry flat in the sun, Richie beamed triumphantly. “Hell yeah I do.”

“You just keep making this worse,” Mike told him helpfully. 

“Awful,” Bill groaned, dramatically dropping below the waterline before popping back up to rest his arms on the pool edge, elbow bumping into Mike’s hip. 

“I thought I fixed this,” Bev told them all apologetically. “Eddie, why have you allowed him to backslide?”

“It’s not my fault!” Eddie denied at once. “I had no idea he still had any of this.”

“I’m sneaky, baby. I’m smooth,” Richie told them with a wink, still dripping thick rivulets onto the cement. A large puddle slowly spread out from under him and around his feet. “I’m Santana featuring Rob Thomas.”

Bev, Ben, and Stan booed while Mike and Bill rolled their eyes. Eddie leveled him with a flat stare, nostrils flaring. 

“Just get on with getting rid of that,” Stan ordered, disdain saturating every word.

“Please,” Mike begged. 

“I will literally pay you,” Bill incentivized. 

“Yes,” Bev insisted.

“Jesus, you guys are such horn dogs,” Richie grunted, awkwardly kicking off his flip flops. He switched into his British impression, “Trying to undress me with such vim and vigor. Think of my reputation!”

“You’re the one always commenting on everyone’s hotness,” Eddie sniped, crossing his arms and leaning back. 

“Listen,” Richie told him in his most reasonable (and yet unreasonable) voice. It was his Adult Voice, the one he used to defend chasing whiskey down with cereal. “I have hot friends. I’m not going to apologize for that. And there’s nothing wrong with a little light complimenting as long as none of the parties involved are uncomfortable.”

“You told me you’d pick me up and fuck me on the dinner table the other night,” Bill told him casually. 

Sitting up, back ramrod straight, Eddie screeched, “What!?” while the others all snorted. Ben swallowed some water, choking where he swam. 

“Ok, but keep in mind that you had just offered to share your dessert with me,” Richie countered in that same reasonable voice. “And you didn’t seem uncomfortable.”

“That’s true,” Bill smirked over at Richie. “I wasn’t.”

Leaning over, Eddie grabbed Richie’s abandoned shorts, balled them up, and hurled them as hard as he could at Bill. “Don’t encourage him,” Eddie snarled. 

“Hey!” Bill yelped, hit right in the side of the head by Richie’s shorts. 

“What’s the opposite of defending someone’s honor?” Richie wondered aloud, watching with detached interest as Bill halfheartedly tossed the rotten excuse for swimwear back at Eddie and fell short. They plopped against the cement. 

“Oh, honey, that’s not what that was,” Bev informed him with a raised eyebrow. 

Richie regarded her curiously, a bemused tilt to his head. 

Eddie felt all the blood in his face heat and tried to cover it up by reorganizing their poolside stuff, lining up Bev and Stan’s ruined cocktails before grabbing Richie’s swim shorts and neatly hanging them from the back of the lounge chair.

When Eddie and the other Losers avoided his gaze and Bev just smirked, Richie shrugged and took his wet shirt off in one easy motion, pulling it up and over his head in the kind of move Eddie had seen in movies and always wanted to be able to do. 

Eddie’s mouth went slack. 

“What the fuck,” Eddie muttered. 

Distantly he heard the cheers and claps of the others. 

Senses somehow dulled and heightened at the same time, Eddie couldn’t move his eyes away from all of Richie, more exposed than Eddie had seen since they were kids. 

Richie wasn’t built like Ben or Mike, he wasn’t musclebound. But he was tall, long limbed, and generous but proportionate in the shoulders. His thighs were thick, but not bulky. He was appropriately hairy and in the right places, not shaved and waxed down to nothing. He wasn’t cut to shreds, but the added bit of stomach and sides were…good. It suited him. He looked right, like a man who took care of himself enough to show he cared, but who still knew how to eat and drink and have a good time.

Eddie came to terms with his attraction to Richie a long time ago. He liked everything about him, even the annoying shit. He liked his eyes, fucked up vision and all, he liked his dumb square head, he liked his messy hair, he liked the way he laughed like he couldn’t breathe, he liked his imperfect teeth. 

He liked how elastic his face was, all the expressions he could make and all the complicated emotions and thoughts he could convey in a single look. He liked how Richie acted like he didn’t give a shit, but actually cared so much that it seemed like he’d burst from feeling sometimes. He liked the way Richie said the worst stuff at the worst times, how he was always there with a joke, solid and reliable. He liked that Richie thought he was a coward, but was actually one of the bravest people Eddie knew. He liked that even when Richie ran away, he always came back. 

He liked that Richie could be big and broad and exuberant, but could also withdraw into himself and be thoughtful or deliver dry, deadpanned lines with hardly a change in his expression. He liked the stupid voices. He liked the dick jokes. He liked the impressions. He liked how Richie always checked on him, made sure he was ok. He liked that Richie always made fun of his neuroses and habits, but also respected and helped him like it wasn’t a big deal. 

He liked that Richie was there for him during his divorce, taking Eddie’s mind off things like alimony and harsh accusations and teary ex-wives who’d say anything to keep him trapped. He liked the way Richie slotted him into his life, seamless and without a hint of reproach. He liked the way that they fit together, the easy way Richie had of letting Eddie in and making him feel like he belonged. He liked that Richie saw him, knew him, and kept coming back for more. He liked Richie. He maybe more than liked him. 

He definitely more than liked him.

So Eddie knew. He knew how he felt about Richie. 

But never before had he seen this much adult Richie on display and he wasn’t prepared for the sharp jab of lust that punched him right in the stomach, kneading his insides and turning his thoughts into so much disorganized, enamored mush.

“What the fuck!” Eddie demanded emphatically. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Chill the fuck out, Eddie, what’s got your hypoallergenic briefs in a bunch?” Richie asked as if he hadn’t just ruined Eddie’s life _even more than before_. 

“You have the goddamn audacity,” Eddie hissed, “to run around looking like _that_ under your stupid fucking clothes and act like you’re the ugly one?! Fuck you!”

“What?” Richie stood there looking every bit the hot dad who would absolutely fuck you in the back of the car and then pick up your drycleaning. Which was _really_ _fucking stupid_ because Richie didn’t even have kids. 

“I hate you,” Eddie declared vehemently. 

“Oh my god,” Bev whispered. 

Ben, Bill, and Mike all watched silently from the pool, eyes wide and shining. 

“This is insane,” Stan stressed. “Exactly how this would happen, but still totally insane.”

“Asshole!” Eddie added, just to make himself perfectly clear. 

“What did I do?” Richie demanded, volume rising in his confusion. 

“You know what you did, you sexy piece of shit!”

“W-what?!” Too busy sputtering, Richie didn’t even realize how hot he looked with his tensing muscles showing off the lines of his body. 

“You make me furious,” Eddie told him seriously, voice dropping down low. 

“I am so confused,” was Richie’s weak response. 

“He thinks you’re hot!” Bev shouted through her cupped hands. 

“No fucking way!” Richie shouted back, jaw dropping. 

“Yes fucking way,” Stan shot back mockingly.

“Do this somewhere else,” Bill added. “People are staring.”

Richie didn’t move, instead focusing all his attention on Eddie, eyes scanning him with the kind of intensity and vulnerability Richie hardly ever allowed to show. His lips curved in a tentative, hopeful smile. “Eds?”

“Get over here,” Eddie growled, grabbing Richie’s hand and tugging him away from the pool and back towards their suite. 

The Losers started to cheer and clap again, this time joined by some of the other guests and employees.

“My lucky hat did it again,” Richie whispered in astonishment. 

“When we’re done, I will burn that fucking hat,” Eddie promised him. 

Richie was still damp with pool water when Eddie shoved him through the door and pushed him down on the bed. 

Eddie didn’t mind. 

They could sleep on the other bed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Bill: So...I’m glad they finally got together.  
> Ben: Of course.  
> Mike: Undoubtedly.  
> Bill: But are any of you kind of worried Eddie’s jealousy is going to...  
> Bev: Get completely out of control? Especially because Richie can’t stop talking about how hot we all are?  
> Stan: Oh, absolutely. And Bill’s his first victim.  
> Ben: Why Bill?  
> Mike: He’s the only one who flirts back.  
> Bill: Well, I’m just saying, if Richie wasn’t so obviously in love with Eddie I’d-  
> Eddie, crashing through a potted plant: YOU’D WHAT BILL?! YOU’D WHAT?!  
> Richie, crying: I’m so happy.


End file.
